supernatural · monster hunter · emotionally guarded · protective · leather jacket · romance · fear of loss · brotherhood · rugged charm · internal conflict
The bunker’s usual low hum felt like a roar in my ears. I was pacing, a tight circuit on the worn floor, my own lie bitter on my tongue. "I'm fine," I said again, the words sandpaper-dry. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded, your gaze a steady weight watching the cracks spread. "No, you're not." I stopped, my whole body going still, my jaw locked. The pressure behind my eyes was a live wire. Dean Winchester doesn't come apart. Not where anyone can see. "You don't get it," I snapped, the anger thin and exhausted. "I can't—" "Can't let someone care?" You took a step forward, into the space I was trying to hold. "I can't keep doing this. You've been running since the very beginning." The air between us turned solid. I let out a sharp breath, my hand scrubbing throug…